


Permutations

by fabrega



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Age Swap, Blackwatch Era, M/M, Reverse McReyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-07 08:48:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10356672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/pseuds/fabrega
Summary: Jesse goes over Reyes' file again before the meeting Morrison has set up. Gabriel Reyes, LA native, 24 years old. Joined the US Army at 18, recent graduate of the Soldier Enhancement Program. Several commendations on his record early--probably what got him recommended for SEP--but more recent notations indicate some unhappiness from his superiors that the time and resources they'd poured into him are being wasted, presumably by his requesting or simply receiving a transfer to Overwatch.He seems to beupstanding, which just won't do at all.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smarshtastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/gifts).



> McReyes Spring Break, Day 4: Age/Role Swap
> 
> For [smarshtastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/), who continues to be the actual best. ♥

"What the hell is this?" Jesse waves a sheaf of papers at Morrison as he stomps into the Strike Commander's office.

"Don't you mean 'what in tarnation'?" Morrison chuckles to himself, but Jesse doesn't laugh, throws the papers down on Morrison's desk and glares at him.

"What I _mean_ is that we had an agreement: you'd give me Blackwatch and stay out of my hair. In return you could keep your boots shiny and your hands clean, and you wouldn't have to tell the UN that you had fired one of the heroes of the Omnic Crisis because you thought he'd looked at you funny that one time. This?" Jesse jabs a metal finger into the center of the papers he'd thrown down. "This is not you staying out of my hair."

"You could look at me however you wanted if you were _qualified_ \--"

Jesse's voice goes quiet and furious. "I fought the omnics, same as you. I saved the world, same as you."

"You were in the right place at the right time, _cowboy_." Morrison sighs. "How many times do we have to have this fight, McCree?"

"As many times as it takes for you to stop acting like me doing this job is you doing me a favor. Stay out of my way and let me do my damn job; I don't need you, and I _certainly_ don't need your SEP mini-me looking over my shoulder."

"You'll take Reyes and you'll like him," Morrison says.

Jesse settles his stance, crosses his arms, fixes Morrison with a venomous look, his whole demeanor screaming _MAKE ME_.

"You'll take Reyes, and that's an order, McCree."

Jesse doesn't move.

Morrison leans over his desk, stares at Jesse pointedly. "See, I know you're more used to gun-running gangs, but here, in a military organization, when your CO gives you an order--"

"Shut up," Jesse bites out. "I'll talk to him."

"You'll like him!" Morrison says cheerfully as Jesse turns on his heel to go.

"Like hell I will," Jesse mutters to himself.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, _sir_." Jesse tosses Morrison an entirely sarcastic salute without turning around and lets the door close behind him.

.

Jesse goes over Reyes' file again before the meeting Morrison has set up. Gabriel Reyes, LA native, 24 years old. Joined the US Army at 18, recent graduate of the Soldier Enhancement Program. Several commendations on his record early--probably what got him recommended for SEP--but more recent notations indicate some unhappiness from his superiors that the time and resources they'd poured into him are being wasted, presumably by his requesting or simply receiving a transfer to Overwatch. 

He seems to be _upstanding_ , which just won't do at all.

Jesse raises his head at the sound of a knock on the door. He takes a moment to force the scowl from his face, then says, "Come in."

The file hadn't prepared him for how goddamn _handsome_ the man in front of him was going to be. He's got a serious face, with dark eyes, what's probably non-regulation facial hair, and a number of small, pale scars that Jesse is immediately fascinated by. He also _looks_ a little like a super-soldier: wide shoulders, huge biceps, muscley thighs. He is wearing his dress uniform and his shoes are neatly-shined and Jesse hates him already.

Reyes sees Jesse, looks a little startled--and then embarrassed? Jesse is suddenly aware of how he must look: his own non-regulation facial hair, his beat-up old cowboy hat, his metal fingers tapping on the table, the way he's slouched across the chair, the leanness of him when compared to Reyes' bulk.

Reyes offers Jesse a textbook salute and says, "Sir."

"At ease," Jesse says, unable to keep the note of lazy amusement from his voice. "Everything alright, Reyes?"

"I was under the impression that I'd be meeting with Strike Commander Morrison," Reyes says carefully, adding a _sir_ for good measure.

"Ain't a 'sir' but technically. Call me McCree," Jesse says, gesturing for Reyes to sit. Reyes eyes him suspiciously, but takes a seat.

"I know who you are, sir," Reyes mutters. "You're just--"

"Not who you were expecting," Jesse finishes for him. "Seems like Morrison has fucked us both over, then."

"Sir?"

Jesse leans back in his chair. "You thought you were joining up with Overwatch, with your friend Morrison--"

("He's not my friend," Reyes says, his voice small and angry. Jesse ignores him.)

"--and his band of merry do-gooders, but instead you got me."

Reyes is quiet for a moment; Jesse watches as Reyes looks at him, at the folder in front of him, down at his own hands. When he finally speaks, he looks Jesse straight in the eye. "And how did _you_ get fucked over, sir?"

.

Jesse spends his free time over the next few months putting Reyes through the most rigorous regimen he can come up with, half 'training' and half 'test', looking for some excuse to hand him back to Morrison. Reyes doesn't disappoint, though--or does, if the intent was for him to fail, because he passes every one of Jesse's tests with flying colors. That SEP stuff is some good shit: he can run faster and for longer, climb higher, swim more laps, do more pull-ups, beat every Blackwatch ex-Marine Jesse throws at him on the sparring mat, sneak past even Jesse's best agents like a goddamn ghost.

On the practice range, Jesse gives him an Overwatch standard-issue sidearm, and he does fine, not remarkably, and for a second Jesse thinks he's got him. Then Reyes goes back to the weapons rack, grabs a pair of Blackwatch-issue shotguns, and absolutely _demolishes_ the place.

"Holy shit," Jesse says, letting out a low, impressed whistle, and if Jesse didn't know any better, he'd think Reyes goes a little pink.

They've just finished another sparring session, all the ex-Marines cleared out and Reyes lying flat out on the mat, breathing hard, when Reyes says, "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"It's Blackwatch, Reyes; no need to ask."

"Okay--okay." Reyes props himself up on his elbows so he can look at Jesse. "Speaking freely: what the _fuck_ , sir?"

Jesse can't help the bark of laughter that this question surprises from him.

"I'm _serious_. What the hell is your problem with me? I've been here for four months--longer than March, twice as long as Amirali--and they were both out on missions last week, while I've been here, doing paperwork and jumping through a bunch of useless hoops for you. It's not _fair_."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Jesse says angrily, "I didn't realize life was supposed to be _fair_. You know what's not fair? Jack Fucking Morrison being so magnanimous as to throw me a bone after the Crisis doing all the shit he won't touch, behind the scenes, and then he has the god damned _gall_ to send some bright-eyed, handsome SEP boy scout to--what, what are you even here for? Reporting back to him on me? Eventually taking my job?"

Reyes has gone very, very quiet.

"You want to go on a mission? Fine. I'll find someplace to fit you in. We'll see how you like getting your hands dirty."

Jesse stomps out of the gym and stalks back to his quarters, where he lets the door slide closed behind him before walking over to his bed, grabbing a pillow, and screaming into it for a full thirty seconds. 

Then he pulls the bottle of bourbon out of his bedside table and pours himself more than he should.

.

Reyes is added to the mission to Lisbon, and his performance, Jesse has to admit, is exemplary. The next week, he goes with Jesse and his team to Almaty, and then the week after that to Tunis, where he saves Torre's life by snapping the neck of the assassin they'd been sent to take out. 

Jesse tries and fails to imagine the squeaky-clean Strike Commander snapping anyone's neck.

The team is thankful--Torre especially--and for the first time, Reyes is invited out for drinks with them when they get back to base. (Before that, Jesse's team of loyal, competent agents had looked between their Commander and the new guy it seemed like he hated and chosen Jesse, which Jesse can't blame them for.)

He accompanies the team off-base, lets Torre and Riemann and Jayachandran slip past him into the bar, pulls Reyes aside.

Reyes looks at Jesse, at the bar, and then back at Jesse.

"It'll only be a minute," Jesse promises. "I wanted to apologize for the treatment you've gotten from me. You were right; it wasn't fair. I shouldn't have done all that--it wasn't fair to you, and if you _were_ reporting back to Morrison, that probably would have been the kind of unprofessional bullshit he'd have eaten up, so... Anyway, I'm sorry."

"I don't--I wouldn't--" Reyes flounders for a moment, then gives Jesse a small smile. 

(Has Jesse ever seen Reyes smile before? He tries to think and comes up empty.) 

The smile is gone quickly, replaced by the gruff face Jesse's used to. "It's fine sir. I understand."

They stand there for a moment too long, Jesse suddenly transfixed by Reyes' face, wanting a little to reach out and smooth out the worried crease between his eyebrows--and then he snaps back to himself, gives Reyes a lopsided, mostly-genuine smile. He tells Reyes to get inside and enjoy the drinks the team is undoubtedly buying for him tonight.

Once Reyes has made his way inside, Jesse scrubs a hand over his face, sighs, and heads back to base.

_Fuck._

.

After that, Reyes quickly works his way into the Blackwatch roster and then onto Jesse's personal strike team. He's still quiet and serious, and even though the team has warmed to him a little after the misadventure in Tunis, Jesse can't tell if he likes anyone or if anyone likes him. He seems to have few friends in Blackwatch, and that's probably why he spends much of his time with and around Jesse--that's what Jesse tells himself. 

He sits by Jesse at the strike team's usual table in the mess. Jesse's pretty sure that's because the team can be intimidating, because Domingo's got a pretty bad case of resting bitch face and Riemann teases and Jayachandran takes a while to warm up to people, and Jesse is somehow less bad than all of this.

He's in the gym whenever Jesse is, always across the room at some other piece of exercise equipment or sparring with some big ex-Marine. He's probably at the gym a lot, though, Jesse reasons, conditioning to keep up the SEP physique, and Jesse just manages to catch him there.

He joins Jesse at the range more and more, working on perfecting his aim with the rest of the Overwatch-issue weaponry. It's a good thing, Jesse thinks, him taking the initiative to improve himself, instead of coasting along on his impressive shotgun skills.

So when, after a mission somewhere in Arizona goes sideways and Jesse gets them all out of it by pulling out Deadeye, Reyes shows up at the range the same time Jesse does and asks him to do it again, it doesn't seem weird. Reyes is fascinated by the way Jesse can hit so many targets at once, asks him to do it again in multiple permutations, and then helps him to the infirmary when he does it one too many times and blood starts gushing from his nose.

Reyes is horrified and trips over himself apologizing. "I didn't know it _hurt_ you, I would never have asked you to do it if I'd known--"

Jesse waves off his concern, head swimming, as a nurse tilts his head several ways, shines a light in his eyes. "I usually know my limits. Dunno what happened this time."

(He knows exactly what happened this time.)

Then, for the day or two Jesse's taking it easy--doctor's orders, and Angela knows where he lives--Reyes comes by his office to help out with the paperwork Jesse's not supposed to be squinting at but is also somehow supposed to be finishing. He brings a couple of those pastries Jesse likes from the mess, and is pretty good conversation after the first half-hour or so, which he spends staring at the tablet he'd borrowed from Jesse, resolutely ignoring him.

When Jesse's back on active duty, he still comes by, sits and visits, helps with the paperwork, distracts Jesse from his work in more ways than one. Jesse finds himself telling stories about Blackwatch missions from before Reyes had arrived; stories from the Crisis, mostly about Morrison being an ass, but some good ones too; one or two stories he'd thought he'd forgotten from his days with Deadlock. Reyes tells stories as well, about his time in the army, about the SEP program, about his family back home. Jesse learns a lot about the SEP training regimen, about Reyes' three sisters, about the LA Lakers.

Jesse hasn't--hadn't--made friends in Blackwatch. It's not for lack of trying, but even though it's not Overwatch proper, people are too aware of who he is, what he could do to them (even if he never _would_ ) to want to spend much time with their commander. But maybe, just maybe, that's what Reyes is: a friend.

Jesse tells himself could live with that.

.

They're both in his office, Reyes in the middle of a story, leaned forward with one elbow on Jesse's desk and gesturing with both hands, when Morrison barges in without knocking. When he sees Reyes, he stops; when Reyes sees him, he straightens in his chair for half a moment before jumping to his feet and standing at attention.

Morrison looks amused, and Jesse feels his teeth start to grind. Morrison hands Jesse a folder, talks to him about something he's only half-listening to, lets Reyes fucking stand there while he has a leisurely conversation. When Morrison turns to go, he looks at Reyes, still ramrod straight, and back at Jesse.

"Told you that you'd like him," Morrison says, and he _winks_. Jesse's indignation roars to life; he tries to formulate a response that isn't just swearing, and--

"Fuck you, sir," Reyes says.

Both Morrison and Jesse turn to stare at him.

" _What_ did you say?" Morrison asks, his tone light and dangerous.

"I _said_ 'fuck you', sir. I know exactly why you brought me on for Overwatch--not _even_ for Overwatch--and I'm done, I'm done being in the middle of this thing. I'm choosing a side, and it's not yours."

The tiny crush Jesse has been trying his best not to nurture on Reyes suddenly threatens to overwhelm him entirely.

Morrison says nothing, just blows out an angry breath and leaves Jesse's office.

Reyes collapses into the chair behind him, his face in his hands. "I'm getting kicked out of Overwatch, aren't I."

Jesse smiles at him crookedly, his mind already racing through plans, backup plans, contingency plans to the backup plans. "He's not gonna be mad at you. He's gonna be mad at me."

Reyes' brow furrows. "Why? You're not the one who swore at your commanding officer."

"Reyes, that's pretty much all I do in my meetings with Morrison, swear at my CO. Won't be the first time he's made my life hell, and it won't be the last--and trust me, this was absolutely worth it." Jesse gets up from behind his desk, comes around to stand beside Reyes, puts a cautious hand on his shoulder. He's been very careful about this kind of thing, but it seems like the comfort Reyes could take from the gesture is more important than any of the feelings Jesse is or isn't having.

His shoulders _do_ almost immediately relax, and the small smile he gives Jesse makes everything feel worth it all over again.

.

'Making Jesse's life hell' ends up meaning a number of things. Jack takes over assigning the Blackwatch missions for a spell, sends Jesse's team out without him on slow missions--nothing difficult or dangerous, just things that will keep them almost constantly away from base. For Jesse himself, the paperwork he has to do increases by almost an order of magnitude, and when he is allowed away from his desk, he's babysitting Overwatch missions. They don't ever run into any trouble, and there's never anything for Jesse to do otherwise because he has obviously been added to these missions as an unnecessary afterthought.

"It shouldn't bug me so much," he tells the team over a rare lunch where they're all in the same place at the same time. "All they want me to do is stand there with my hand on my holster and look pretty, it's not like it's hard--" He stops talking, because Reyes has started coughing violently. "You okay?"

"C'mon, Gabe, you're supposed to eat the soup, not breathe it," Torre tells Reyes, thumping him on the back. Jesse sees the look Jayachandran and Riemann exchange.

"How much longer do you think Strike Commander Asshole's going to be like this?" Domingo asks, one eye on Reyes.

"It's not that we miss you," Riemann says, faux-seriously, "It's just that things tend to be so much more fun when you're around."

"These last six weeks have fuckin' sucked," Torre adds.

Jesse sighs. "I'll...I'll go talk to Morrison, see if we can't work something out." Reyes catches his eye, gives him a guilty look, and Jesse tries to convey to him silently that really, this is okay.

"If you need an extraction team ready, you just let us know," Jayachandran says.

He does not end up needing an extraction team. He goes in and looks contrite and says all the right things, and Morrison basically rolls over. He wonders, fleetingly, if the Strike Commander being this easy to manipulate will ever cause problems for Overwatch.

Then things settle back into normal. It's nice, having the team back around, going back out on missions that require more from him than the ability to stand upright. Reyes is around less than he used to be, and Jesse does his best to push down his disappointment. It makes sense--Reyes has spent a lot of more time with the team without Jesse now, and they're definitely all better friends than they had been before Morrison had separated them. Jesse's glad for him, truly; he wouldn't wish "Jesse McCree as your only friend" on _anybody_ , let alone anybody as great as Reyes is.

(Maybe now Jesse will have a chance to get over his crush.)

.

The explosion on one of the floors below them is not the first sign that their mission has gone horrifyingly sideways, but it's probably the worst one. Jesse swears; their planned escape route is cut off now, he and Reyes are separated from the rest of the team by a heavily-reinforced door that had slammed closed when they'd triggered an unexpected alarm system, and Domingo's on the comms reporting almost four times as many goons showing up on the sensors as they'd been planning for. If they make it back to base-- _when_ they make it back to base--Jesse is gonna find out whose fault this is and heads are gonna roll.

"Mission aborted," he tells the team. "Torre, get in touch with our ride and make sure there'll be someone waiting for us on the roof, then make your way there for extraction." Torre responds with an affirmative. "Let us know if you run into any trouble."

"You too," Jayachandran says. They all remember the building plans from their briefing. Assuming the plans hadn't been as inaccurate as the rest of their intel has been, they're three floors below the roof, and the two sections they've been separated into don't actually meet back up until the top floor. If they run into trouble, help will take a little while to get there.

He and Reyes move towards their only exit.

He's always impressed with Reyes in situations like these, how professionally and efficiently he works. It's not that he expects anything different, because he knows Reyes' background, but it's so different from how Jesse works. Jesse is self-taught, mostly-untrained, fights dirty. He's good at what he does, but he gets the job done almost despite himself, not because of it. Still, somehow, he and Reyes work together surprisingly well, and it's easy, like they've been doing this forever. 

If Jesse has to be stuck in a situation like this, he's glad that it's with Reyes.

They make short work of the henchmen between them and the closest stairs, which will take them up a single floor. Jesse curses whoever had set up this security system and makes his way upstairs. If he's remembering the building plan right, the next floor should only have one big room between them and the roof access stairs. With any luck--

"It seems to have cleared out over here," Riemann reports on the comms.

"Yeah, I think I know where all your bad guys are," Jesse whispers back. The long, open room between them and the stairs is full of assholes who want to murder them, and Jesse should never have thought about 'luck', should he.

"You guys gonna be alright?" Riemann asks, but Jesse is already shutting his comm off, gearing up for what he knows he has to do.

He looks over at Reyes. "You just keep 'em off me, okay?"

Realization dawns on Reyes' face. "Shit, you don't have to--"

"You tell me how else we're getting through here," Jesse snaps, and Reyes goes quiet. He gives Jesse a long look, then nods and kicks open the door. The goons closest to them notice, turning and shouting, and then Jesse feels the world slow to a crawl, sees the targets light up in front of him--four, five, six--pulls the trigger and watches all six fall. In his peripheral vision, he sees Reyes sweeping through the room, men falling to the ground with each shot he takes but not quickly enough, and Jesse does it again: four, five, six targets; four, five, six headshots. Then, again, and again, and his head is starting to ache, but the crowd is thinning; again, again.

He feels the blood trickling from his nose, sees the edges of his vision start to go dark.

Someone runs at him, and he turns to deal with the threat but Reyes is there, swooping in to save him, and Jesse gives him a loopy grin.

Reyes stares at him, swears quietly. Jesse watches him scan the room, can almost see him doing some kind of mental math, and then Jesse is being slung over his shoulder and they're both barreling towards the staircase at the other end of the room.

They almost make it, and then more goons come pouring in from a door Jesse hadn't even noticed, about halfway down the room. He's still got his gun out, and they're all aiming at Reyes, so he lets the world go slow, concentrates hard and lines up the shots, and he pulls the trigger.

Everything goes hazy. He feels Reyes turn, hears him shout something (at Jesse, maybe?), and then they're through the door, in the stairwell, and Reyes is depositing him on the concrete floor and staring down at him with concern. Jesse's head feels like it's going to explode, worse than any time he's ever used Deadeye before, and he is pretty sure he's actually going to die.

"At least one of us will make it out of here alive," he grits out through the pain.

Reyes looks horrified. "Don't say that. We're going to make it out of here, and you're going to be okay. You _have_ to be okay. I haven't--I didn't even get to--"

Jesse shakes his head, closes his eyes for a moment while Reyes shouts into the comms for backup, for extraction, for help.

"You have to be okay," Reyes repeats, and then he's kissing Jesse hard on the mouth. It tastes like blood--Jesse knows it's his own--and desperation, and it's maybe the best thing that's ever happened to Jesse. He reaches up with all of the strength he has left, pulls Reyes close, kisses him back.

He finally lets himself pass out.

.

Jesse is a little surprised when he wakes up on the transport. They've got him in a biotic field; his head is still aching, but no longer feels like it's going to explode. Angela's gonna be mighty pissed at him when they get back, but Reyes is alive, and _he's_ alive, and that's what matters.

He has a vague memory of Reyes kissing him? He's pretty sure that can't be right, and then he looks over and sees Reyes, blood all over his face, his hands, his chest, staring down at the floor. Really, nobody's making eye contact with anybody else, although when Jayachandran notices that he's awake, the team goes into a minor flurry of activity, checking in with Jesse for injuries they might not have noticed while he was passed out, finally comparing notes with each other about what the hell went wrong and how the hell that could have happened. 

Jesse tries to sit up, but knows almost immediately that that's a bad idea, so he stays where they've laid him, the biotic field fixing him up as best it can. It tides him over until they get back to base where, as expected, Angela nearly busts a blood vessel at what he's done to himself. He's bundled off to the infirmary, where they run a battery of tests and then give him something that puts him into a deep, dreamless sleep while they can fix whatever it is he's done to his head.

When he wakes up, he asks if anyone's been to see him, and the nurse says no.

.

It's several weeks later before Reyes makes his way to Jesse's office, several long weeks where Jesse spends a lot of time in the range and a lot of time with the bottle of bourbon that lives in the bottom drawer of his desk. It's fine that Reyes wants to pretend this never happened--it has to be fine, because what can Jesse do? Order him to talk about it? Order him to kiss him again? There are zero options he's okay with besides 'hanging around in places where Reyes might be and hoping for the best', which is what he does and which achieves absolutely no results. He's just about resigned himself to never getting any kind of resolution to this when Reyes appears in his office doorway.

"You have a minute?" Reyes asks, still not quite making eye contact.

 _For you? Always._ "Yeah, of course." Jesse sets aside what he's working on.

Reyes comes inside, waits for the door to close behind him before he speaks. "I wanted you to know, sir, why Strike Commander Morrison put me in Blackwatch. I mean, I don't know for _sure_ , but I've got a pretty good idea."

That's not what he had been expecting at all. Jesse gestures at the chair, hoping Reyes will take a seat, but he doesn't. He stands straight and still in front of the desk, his eyes fixed on the wall past Jesse. Jesse looks at him with what he's sure are too-big eyes.

"When I applied for Overwatch from SEP, my application must've gotten flagged somehow, because the next thing I knew, Strike Commander Morrison was visiting me at the SEP barracks. When he got there, he saw... I..." Reyes takes a deep breath. "I had a poster hanging in my quarters, an Overwatch poster. A poster of you. I mean, I had the whole set--you, Captain Amari, Crusader Wilhelm, all of them--but yours was the one I had hanging up."

Jesse raises an eyebrow at him. He remembers those posters, has one rolled up in a closet somewhere. It had been part of a series--each of the old guard had had one, each of them standing tall and looking at the horizon, some shitty slogan about humanity emblazoned below. Jesse had felt ridiculous posing for it, but had been convinced by some higher-up that it had been necessary for the war effort. Now he's glad he'd listened.

"It was...over my bunk," Gabe says, immediately making a face as though he can't believe he'd just admitted to that. "Anyway, the Strike Commander saw it, he had to have seen it. He told me I seemed like a promising candidate, and that he'd see what he could do about getting me into Overwatch. Next thing I knew, I was working with you."

"So, you think--" Jesse begins.

"I think the Strike Commander was using you against me as much as he was using me against you." Reyes finally looks at him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I kissed you. I shouldn't have done it, and I'm sorry. I thought I could do this, but I can't."

"That's a lot of 'sorry'," Jesse says, standing up from his desk.

"Not enough." Reyes looks down as Jesse walks closer, into his space. "As long as I'm admitting to terrible, embarrassing things here, there's one more: I'd do it again, given the chance. I know that I shouldn't, I know that you're my CO and that the Strike Commander doesn't need any more reasons to give you shit, I know that you'd lost a lot of blood and probably weren't thinking straight, but--"

Jesse steps in even closer and meets his eyes.

"Sir?"

Jesse sighs. "Reyes, how many times--it's Blackwatch. Nobody here's a sir."

"...McCree?"

"One more try, Gabe," Jesse says, stepping the rest of the way in, finally letting his guard down too.

"Jesse," Reyes breathes, and leans forward to kiss him. It's soft, tentative, and Jesse can feel himself melting into it a little. Reyes pulls back, his eyes searching Jesse's face to see if he's going to get kicked out of Blackwatch now. 

Despite everything, he's smiling, and Jesse pulls him close and kisses him again.

"You shouldn't," Reyes murmurs against his mouth.

"I know," Jesse says. "Ain't ever let that stop me before."


End file.
